The Dangers of an Apostate
by Serindrana
Summary: Eliara Hawke fears nothing more than herself. Knight-Commander Meredith offers control... if Hawke will only submit. Meredith/Mage F!Hawke, unhealthy power relations. Set between Acts 2 and 3. Implied Mage F!Hawke/Fenris.


**Warnings**: Possible abuse of power differences, self-loathing. Can be read as dubcon.

* * *

"Champion. I didn't expect you to just... drop by."

Eliara Hawke's lips quirked in a shy sort of smile as she glanced around the courtyard. She'd never been this far into the Gallows and the feeling of eyes on her was worse than ever. She would never get used to this, being _known_ to be a mage, being tolerated but watched carefully. She would never get used to not having to hide her face behind a cowl when using magic. And she would never get used to standing across from Knight-Commander Meredith without either of them drawing a weapon.

"I require your assistance," she said, returning her attention to Meredith. "In a personal matter."

Meredith's brow wrinkled for a moment before she jerked her head back to a set of stairs that led up to one of the few entrances. "Come. We can talk in my office."

Was she supposed to be afraid, walking into the old, cramped hallways of the Gallows? Eliara thought she was and, if she focused, she could feel the barest edge of fear. But there, in front of that fear, was a sense of being somehow safe. It echoed the reassuring weight of the metal collar she placed around her neck each morning.

Meredith gestured her into her office then closed the door behind them. Standing off to the side, reading over a scroll, was a woman in Chantry robes with her long hair pulled back from her face by braids. The Chantry sunburst was bright on her forehead and that, at least, Eliara flinched away from.

"Knight-Commander-"

"This is Elsa, my assistant. She stays." Meredith brushed past her, moving to sit behind her desk. "Would you like a drink, Hawke?"

"Ah- perhaps. In a bit. But first..."

Meredith folded her hands together and looked across the table to her, eyes cold and unyielding. Eliara swallowed.

Two years ago, before the death of her mother, Eliara would have met that gaze and laughed and pushed. Two years ago, Eliara would have continued making mistakes and ignoring them. But it wasn't two years ago; now she was cowed and slightly ashamed standing before this woman, this terrifying force of the Maker's will. She didn't feel particularly like a Champion. She never had.

"I want to know if there's a way that I can be sure I'll never fall to blood magic or demons, beyond being made Tranquil."

Meredith let out a bark of a laugh. "Now _that_ is something I would not have expected from you, Champion Apostate."

"Then you do not know me, Knight-Commander."

"No, perhaps I don't." Meredith frowned, tapping her fingers on the wood. "Does this have something to do with that collar round your throat? I'd always assumed it had to do with your relationship with that Tevinter boy, but..."

"It- doesn't have to do with him, no. It's a reminder. To be vigilant." She remembered it clearly: a week after her mother's death, she'd chopped her long blonde hair off, placed metal around her neck for the first time with thoughts filled with that Qunari mage she'd watch kill himself, and gone to Fenris. She'd just wanted to walk through town by a friend's side. She wanted comfort. She wanted- she had wanted a lot of things, but Fenris hadn't been ready to give them and still wasn't. She had never thought that he would react as badly as he had to all the changes.

_What have you done_? he'd asked, standing in the doorway of his borrowed mansion. His eyes had gone first to her hair and then to her throat, his expression darkening. She'd thought he might approve of her growing commitment not to end up like Quentin or Danarius or any of the other warped and twisted mages that she'd heard about or met first-hand. Instead, he'd grabbed her, shook her, stared her down.

_You are not a slave, Hawke!_

And she'd told him that she hadn't meant it like that. That she needed that constant weight, that symbol- and couldn't he just help to control her? Just to make sure?

He'd been so close, he told her later, to throwing her out on the street. Instead, he'd just sighed and pulled her into the gloom of Danarius's mansion, asking her where the Eliara Hawke he knew had gone.

That Eliara Hawke, the one who joked about everything, took nothing seriously, and felt like she was on top of the world- that Eliara Hawke had died with Leandra.

"Your own personal templar, in necklace form. How... cute," Meredith said, not quite sneering. "And not terribly effective. Hawke, I must admit- I would put you in the Gallows to be watched, if I could. For your own safety, of course."

"I know." She felt small, standing there. She'd spent six years in Kirkwall, six years of being confronted with every horrific thing that a mage could do, and she was sure there could only be more ahead. How could she have ever thought she had this under control? That she was better than everybody else? That she knew what she was doing? "But you can't."

"I can't," Meredith agreed. The templar sat back, eyes narrowing and then closing in thought.

"Please," Eliara said, voice dropping to a whisper. "I can't- I've started imagining myself doing things. Tearing my arm open to use the blood. Hurting others to bring demons into this world. It _scares_ me. I just want to be able to trust myself."

"You won't ever be able to." Meredith opened her eyes again, staring down Hawke- Hawke, who had dueled the Arishok half wishing to lose but was now quailing before her.

"I need to."

Meredith looked her over. Eliara now openly wore mages' robes, something Meredith had always suspected was the other woman bragging of how her status and power protected her. But now she wondered if, perhaps, the robes were a warning - _I am dangerous. Be careful -_ not out of vanity, but fear. A target for the templars to watch and strike down if she began to stray.

"... I have an idea," Meredith said, slowly. This was something dangerous, something that could turn an unbalanced mage or one who already hated the templars to violence. But Eliara... "I will put you in your place- remind you of what can be done to you. If you _dare_ strike out at me in earnest, I will have your head; but if you will submit, I think it may give you the control you need."

"Submit," Eliara said, trying the word out. She flushed, glancing away to Elsa. "I won't- you won't make me Tranquil, will you?"

"No," Meredith assured with no smile and a serious gaze. Her eyes fixed on Eliara's face. "Elsa- lock the door and then strip the Champion. Hawke, would you like that drink now?"

Eliara's cheeks turned an even brighter shade of pink. "I don't think that will be necessa-"

"I need to know that you are _not_ a practicing blood mage, Hawke." Meredith rose from her seat and then poured two small cups of the whiskey she kept at her desk. She held one out for the apostate. "You have nothing to fear, I assume?"

"... No," Eliara said as she heard the lock click shut behind her. She took the cup. "No, you can see."

The mouthful she took burned going down and she tried to focus on that feeling as Elsa touched her shoulder, lightly, then began to undo the clasps running along the back of her robe. She finished the cup before Elsa guided her arms down to slide the fabric from her.

"The Knight-Commander," the Tranquil woman said, voice determined and forceful behind the apathy, "tends to assume all apostates practice blood magic. She prefers to err on the side of caution."

"I understand," Eliara murmured, stepping from the puddle of her robes, standing before Meredith's desk in only her smalls. She watched Elsa gather up her robes and staff and take them over to a chest in the corner of the room.

Meredith came out from behind her desk and crossed the distance between them, eyes scanning every inch of exposed flesh. There were scars there, of course; places where she'd been struck before her rock armor had fully formed around her, a long gash along her side where the Arishok had almost managed to skewer her alive. She almost hadn't been able to heal herself quickly enough to stay on her feet. Eliara shivered at the chill touch of Meredith's metal gauntlet as she guided one of her arms up, then the other.

The templar asked about each scar and Eliara struggled to remember where each one came from, heart hammering in her chest, her ears, her belly. She could feel her pulse everywhere. She felt guilty for the blood that flowed through her. She closed her eyes and stayed still under each questioning touch.

Meredith was surprisingly gentle and did not crow and mock when Eliara faltered and couldn't remember quite where a scar on her leg had come from. She was patient. She was watchful.

It made Eliara feel safe even as she wanted to cower in fear.

Finally, the older woman stepped back. "What I intend to do, Hawke, is have you pull energy. Try to cast. I will stop you every time, until you can no longer stand it. I _will_ break you. Do you submit?"

Eliara turned to look at her full on. She trembled. She feared. But she had wanted this from _somebody_ for so long. She thought it might have started when she saw Anders almost kill that mage girl and knew him for what he truly was: abomination. It was already in full swing when she saw what had destroyed her mother. But Fenris had always shied from it, even as he'd railed against the excesses of the magisters. He refused to keep her under control. He refused to push, afraid of what he might find. He refused to do anything but be quietly, distantly supportive, and it _wasn't enough_.

"I submit," she said, lifting her chin.

"Very well." She glanced to Elsa. "Move the table. We shall need space."

Eliara glanced over at her robes while the Tranquil woman maneuvered Meredith's desk, with all its charts and papers, to be flush in the alcove with two tall, barred windows. She was about to ask for them back and dress herself again when Meredith's voice cut through.

"Begin, Hawke."

Eliara took a deep breath and began to form armor around herself. But Meredith was on top of her in an instant, close but not touching, and the stone faded from around her into nothingness. She gasped, feeling the drain on her power. She took a step back. Meredith did not follow, only watching.

"Again, Hawke."

Ice, this time, and she almost got off the shot before she hesitated, remembering Meredith's earlier threat. Meredith waited until she faltered, then advanced again. The ice melted. Eliara stepped back again, taking a deep breath and coughing to try and fix how her lungs seemed to seize just a little.

"Again."

Fire. Meredith touched her for the first time, shoving her back into the tall bookshelves lining one wall of the office. Eliara stumbled back, then fell. This time, the drain made her begin to panic. She pulled lightning even before Meredith commanded. The Knight-Commander responded by dropping to her knees on top of Eliara, one leg on either side of Hawke's hips, gauntleted hands pressing her shoulders down. The drain was immediate and painful and went deeper than before, and Eliara cried out. She struggled. She summoned enough strength to try and blast Meredith from her, but Meredith was too strong and too fast. Eliara was left feeling more and more empty, more and more desperate, and there was nothing she could do but thrash.

Meredith just leaned down a little bit more and said, _"Again, Hawke_."

She pulled healing energy this time, trying to soothe the growing ache inside of her, but even that was taken from her. Meredith lifted her shoulders from the ground before slamming them back down. Hawke's head throbbed and her ears rang as she tried to break free.

Meredith stood up and returned to the center of the room.

"Is _this_ how you defeated the Arishok, Hawke?"

There was a light, mocking edge to her words and Eliara rose to her feet with flames wreathing her hands and arms. She shouted, rushing Meredith, but Meredith held up a hand and clenched her fist. The fire went out of her and Eliara faltered just before she slammed into the woman. Meredith caught her around the waist and threw her down, laughing.

"Come on, Hawke. _Show me how __**you**__ could become the Champion of Kirkwall_."

She stopped trying to focus, then, stopped trying to precisely lay down one spell at a time. She struggled to her feet and ran for the chest that her staff was propped up against. Her fingers closed around it just before Meredith struck her in the side. She went down with a cry, but not before she let off a flurry of spells- all of which sizzled in the air and only served to bring Meredith down upon her again. This time, though, the Knight-Commander shouted for Elsa. The Tranquil came running and helped to pin her down as she thrashed, casting spells without thought. The air crackled. The Veil shuddered and writhed. The room took on the unmistakable tang of magic, that strange scent that somehow smelled of lyrium when lyrium had no smell of its own.

And Meredith was on top of her, dispelling it all, casting it aside and grinning wickedly.

Eliara was empty.

She shuddered and cried and tried to pull away, but Elsa was strong and Meredith was even stronger. The Knight-Commander laughed, reaching down to push Eliara's hair from her face. "Is that all, Hawke?"

It was.

"Do you submit?"

Weakly, Eliara nodded. She watched, dazed and drifting, as Meredith sat up and pulled off her gauntlets, tossing them aside. She touched bare skin to bare skin and Eliara gasped. She felt emptiness wherever Meredith touched, a loss of the magic that lived in her very blood, the magic that could always tempt her if she wasn't strong enough. Every touch left that patch of skin empty and cold and yet amazingly warm. Eliara shuddered.

"You must feel terribly empty," Meredith murmured, fingers teasing along the edge of her smalls. "I can barely feel anything in you anymore. So drained. So powerless. Am I right, Hawke? Am I?"

"Yes," she whispered, closing her eyes. She couldn't feel the Veil. She couldn't _feel_, not entirely- she was numb. Was this Tranquility? No, it couldn't be- not entirely. But it was close. She'd only been this exhausted once or twice before and Isabela had been there to dangle lyrium potions in front of her. But not here; she was empty. And somehow, it still felt as wonderful as she'd imagined. As her heartbeat began to slow and she sank into the feeling, she felt what she'd hoped for all along.

She felt controlled.

Meredith leaned down again, the metal of her armor biting into Eliara's skin. She trailed her hands up along Eliara's sides, slid them up under Elsa's hands on her shoulders. The Tranquil rose and moved to Meredith's side, looking down at Hawke as Meredith inclined her head near enough to breathe warm against Eliara's cheek.

"Does your Tevinter lover know you're here, Hawke?"

Eliara shuddered, eyes snapping open. "He- I-"

"I'll take that as a no." Meredith moved to ghost her lips over Eliara's. "Do you submit?"

Another shudder ran through her. Even Meredith's lips seemed to keep her safe from the Veil, keep her pinned to the ground powerless. Fenris hadn't touched her since that night two years ago, had said nothing of it, had done _nothing_ except stop by on occasion to give her a job tip or to work on learning to read. She wasn't sure what they were to one another. She knew she didn't deserve him, not with how she'd made light of his fears and pains that night, not with how she couldn't guarantee she'd never become another magister.

No, he didn't know she was here.

He didn't need to know, either.

"I submit," she whispered.

Meredith grinned, chuckling, before she dipped her head those last few increments and kissed Eliara. She kissed hard and firm, subduing Eliara even now. Eliara whimpered and arched up, hands trying to find Meredith, find something to hold onto. But at one touch, Meredith pulled away again, sitting up. She looked to Elsa.

"My armor, if you would?"

"Of course, Knight-Commander." Elsa bowed her head and then began working at the buckles of Meredith's plate with sure, quick fingers. Eliara stared. She'd forgotten the other woman was even in the room. Her world had narrowed to just Meredith and now she tried to move, turn away from Elsa, hide. Meredith reached down and pushed against her stomach hard enough to keep her still.

"Submit, Hawke," she repeated, voice slow and lips curling into a smirk.

Elsa rose once more to take Meredith's armor to a stand on the other side of the room. Meredith was left in templar robes. Her leg armor beneath her skirt was still hard against Eliara's sides and hips. She didn't move to undress further, fingers instead working under Eliara's breast band, undoing the catches that kept it taut. Eliara arched and squirmed, shuddering. She hadn't been touched like this in two years, and before that in four or five, not since Lothering, well before Carver had left for Ostagar. Lothering had been full of meaningless flings, broken-hearted boys and fun. Fenris had been intense and confusing and wonderful. This- this was heavy. Cold. Exactly what she needed.

When Elsa returned, Meredith nodded and the Tranquil came to kneel at Eliara's head once more. Her hands found Eliara's shoulders again and pressed. Eliara found herself looking up at Elsa's placid expression, eyes focusing in on the brand on her forehead, as Meredith sat up enough to drag Eliara's smalls down and bare her completely. She shuddered at the feel of Meredith's calloused, worn fingers sliding back up along her legs, tracing major veins, dispelling the tiniest bit of magic that was finding its way back. Her legs parted as Meredith guided her with firm, almost forceful touches. The Knight-Commander moved to sit between them, fingers running up the insides of her thighs, exploring and testing to see how jumpy she was, how responsive she was. Eliara moaned, head falling back and eyes losing focus, Elsa turning into a blur of red and black and pink above her. Her back arched when Meredith ran a knuckle down her folds, parting her, the cool air of the room chilling her and making her whine.

Elsa kept her in place.

"Hawke," Meredith murmured, leaning down to tease her tongue into Eliara's navel. Eliara whimpered and writhed, the feeling of Elsa's hands on her shoulders driving her wild with thoughts of _Yes, I submit- control me_-_ make me_- The collar rested heavy on her neck, biting in where she rested her weight against it, uncomfortable more now than ever.

"Please," Eliara whispered. "I submit, I do. _Please_-"

"As you wish, Champion." The words were barely more than breath across her flushed and heated skin, skin that thrummed with the loss of the power of her blood and the touch of skilled fingers and tongue. Meredith looked up at her along the length of her body as her fingers went from blunted knuckles tracing light paths to prodding, searching tips. "I will not be gentle."

Eliara cried out as Meredith pressed two fingers deep inside of her. She bucked and writhed, held down by both Chantry women. Whatever power that momentary shock and desperation brought to her was dispelled immediately, and this time the sensation came from within her. She shut her eyes and whispered the Maker's name. Meredith laughed that same laugh that moved between derisive and amused.

"Beg for forgiveness, Hawke, if you beg for anything at all." Those long, powerful fingers began to move as Meredith turned her hand to place her thumb against Eliara's nub, stroking. That brought another shudder and another cry, but this one turned quickly to a moan. She arched again, nipples hardening from the increased feeling of exposure and the heat building between her legs. The pulses of dispel made her buck her hips in time and she barely had time to think _I never expected her to make it feel so good_ before it was too good to think. She opened to Meredith, toes curling, fingers clenching into fists at her side then scrabbling at the rug beneath them.

And then Meredith added a third finger.

Maker, but she was tight. It had been a long time, too long, and Eliara whimpered, undulations turning to uncomfortable shifting. Meredith didn't pause, though, fingers driving in and out, thumb still working. It burned and stung and she bit her lip. It had been like this with Fenris, too- they'd been so caught up in _now, now, touch me now, why haven't we done this yet?_ that they had barely made it up the stairs and to the bedroom. But this insistence, Meredith's intense gaze and touch, had little to do with the passion to be _with_ that had consumed Fenris.

No, this was a passion to _have_. To control. To watch Hawke fall apart on the floor of her office.

Meredith's face was almost impassive, save for the small, wicked smile on her lips. She watched Eliara's face with every stroke and thrust. Her free hand trailed along her thigh, then up her side, finally coming to rest on one of Eliara's breasts. She pressed down even as she rocked her palm, providing stimulation and keeping her pinned as Meredith adjusted her angle, leaning forward and rising up. Eliara moved with her as best she could, tilting her hips up and bending her legs at the knee. She held herself open for Meredith, and Meredith drove in all the harder, fingers crooking and stroking and pressing.

When Eliara felt the teasing touch of Meredith's fourth finger at her entrance, trailing from the bottom of her cunt to the tightened bud of her ass and back again, her eyes opened again. She met Meredith's expectant, questioning gaze. That finger settled with its fellows, just outside of her body.

"Do you submit, Eliara Hawke?" Meredith murmured, and for the first time, _her _voice sounded strained, needy.

Eliara shivered, that feeling of emptiness growing strong and going beyond her lack of magic with every second Meredith kept her fingers only dancing along her slit. "Yes. _Yes_, Knight-Commander-"

"_Good_," Meredith said, smirk turning to a grin and all four fingers driving into the slick, warm heat of Eliara's body.

Eliara's moan was somewhere between a cry and a sob. Her magic had begun to slip back while Meredith was questioning her, but the unstoppable slam of Meredith's dispel that accompanied her fingers was immense and powerful. Her body ached and screamed and wanted Meredith both farther inside and out completely, but Meredith would not allow either extreme. She twisted her hand, thumb finding Eliara's nub again and fingers crooking inside to stroke against her inner walls. Eliara keened and Meredith drank it up, for one moment leaning far enough up Hawke's body to take her lips again. Her hand stilled for just that moment, the angle too awkward to move at. Eliara could feel the steady, fast throb of her pulse all around Meredith and even as her lips parted and she gasped into Meredith's mouth, she began to rock her hips urgently against Meredith's hand.

The older woman laughed, bit down hard on Eliara's lower lip, then pulled away again.

"I do believe," she murmured, thumb pressing and circling insistently, "that I promised that I would break you. I ask you one last time, Hawke-" Her thumb came to rest with its fellows. "Do. You. Submit."

"_Maker, yes_-!" Eliara heard herself gasping out before she could even process the question fully, but by then it was too late to think, Meredith pushing and twisting her hand until Eliara thought she _would_ break, would really snap in half and come apart, bleed and scream and sob- and then Meredith was inside her, her fingers curling into a fist. Eliara's moan was low and loud, her chest rising and falling fast.

Meredith stilled, looking down at the flushed, writhing body beneath her, slicked with sweat and trembling with exertion. She waited. She watched. And then, quietly, she said, "_Cast_, Hawke."

Eliara trembled and rocked against Meredith's hand, shifted, trying to adjust _somehow_ to the girth inside of her. She couldn't push it out, not with how her entrance clenched around Meredith's comparatively slender wrist, and she didn't _want_ to, not really. But she couldn't think, couldn't pull. It was there, that power, just out of reach, but it wasn't close _enough_ and she could think of nothing else but how her breasts ached to be touched, how her lips still stung from Meredith's kisses, how Elsa's hands were warm and firm on her shoulders still holding her impassively.

Meredith twitched her fingers and Eliara groaned. Cast, she had to- that was the whole point, the whole arrangement-

The air around them compressed and turned heavy, oppressively heavy, for just a moment before the most wrenching, horrible dispel she'd ever felt ripped through her body, centering and emanating from Meredith's hand, draining her completely and leaving her boneless on the floor, gasping for breath. She shuddered in waves, uncontrollably, and at first barely felt it when Meredith began to move inside of her. The Knight-Commander alternated short series of thrusts with rough kisses, murmurs of _Good girl, good mage, submit, submit_ on her lips, filling the air between them. Eliara lay completely open beneath her, only weakly thrusting in return, exhausted and nearly finished. But somehow, even through the numbness, the pressure and sensation of Meredith's hand was enough to build her up, make her _feel_, and give her, finally, release in one long, wailing, shuddering moment.

Elsa, quiet and stoic, let go of Eliara's shoulders and stood, moving to a basin to pour water into it.

Meredith carefully, almost _gently_, wiggled her hand free with a loud, unsettling _pop_, leaving Eliara feeling even emptier before. Empty, but satisfied. Empty, but controlled. She sighed and somehow managed to roll onto her side. Meredith pressed a chaste kiss to her head, then rose. She moved to Elsa's side and let the Tranquil woman wash her clean.

Eliara wasn't entirely sure how much time passed, lying there on the floor of the Knight-Commander's office. She drifted, coming close to sleep for the first time in months without the sudden fear of possession or blood magic. She must have done something, though, because Meredith was hauling her to her feet and laughing, holding her still as Elsa slid Eliara's robes back onto her, fastening them once more. Her smalls were discarded. Eliara barely noticed.

Meredith took Eliara into her arms, arms that were once more covered in metal armor, and Eliara let herself be crushed against that unyielding cold.

"Good girl, Champion Apostate," Meredith murmured. "There's hope for you yet. You understand better than anyone the dangers posed by an apostate left unchecked. Support me, Hawke. I will give you the control you need. I will allow you to submit."

"Submit," she echoed, closing her eyes and feeling that calm. Her magic was coming back, was strong enough that she may have had a chance to killing Meredith if she'd wanted to take it. But instead, she just leaned, nodding. "I've always- supported the templars. Ever since I saw what magic was really like."

"Why do you think I've allowed you to run free for so long? I know, Hawke. Good girl, Eliara," she said in something that could almost have been called a croon. "Set an example. Submit. Come to me when you feel yourself falter. I will be waiting, Hawke."

Her name, the repetition of it, was so soothing, so grounding. She nodded, stepping back finally from Meredith's embrace. There were more words, pleasantries, courtesies, and then she was given back her staff, the door was unlocked, and she stumbled out into the bright light of a Kirkwall winter day.

The walk home was long and painful, her body aching and her mind only too aware that she wasn't strong enough to defend herself on her own. The boat ride to the mainland was at times wonderfully soothing and excruciatingly stimulating, but she made it home without issue. It was only as she passed Bodahn without a word, climbed the stairs, and sank into the bed that she'd shared with Fenris those two long years ago that she wondered-

What in _Andraste's_ name had she just gotten herself into?


End file.
